


Forgive me

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-08 07:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: “Forgive me, Scully,” he mumbles, “I am so sorry.” The words come easy now knowing she can’t hear them. Set Post "The Truth".





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the xf writing challenge: forgiveness on tumblr

It rains the first night they're on the road. The raindrops pelt angrily against the windshield and the wipers do their best to give Mulder a clear view of what's ahead. Their scratchy movement contributes to the peculiar symphony they're listening to; their silence, however, is the loudest participant.

Things they want to talk about, really should talk about now after all this time, they’re swallowed in kisses, in moans instead. Here in the car, though, the distance between them seems inexpugnable. Mulder considers taking her hand in his, the need to feel her soft skin against his is almost painful. But he doesn’t reach over. Despite their desperate love making last night, he is not sure where they stand. Their bodies remember each other flawlessly, as if never having been apart. The distant look in her eyes, emotions playing on her face he's never seen before, they remind him that she lived through a hell he did not walk through himself. Just like his hell is his very own. They’re both burned, but their wounds no longer match.

And Mulder’s secret, he fears, will make it only worse. Cause newer, rawer pain.

His eyes wander over to her small body, slumped in her seat, her head leaning the window. She’s fast asleep, still trusting him enough to know he’ll get them there, wherever, safely.

“Forgive me, Scully,” he mumbles, “I am so sorry.”

The words come easy now knowing she can’t hear them.

*

“Where are we?” Scully wakes up with the sun, her voice as warm and gentle as the weather.

“We just passed Tucson.” Mulder adjusts his sunglasses, preparing himself for her next question.

“Where are we going, Mulder? Mexico?”

“No.” She waits for him to elaborate, tell her, and he just can’t find the words.

“I’m sorry, Scully. It’s just- let’s just drive, all right?”

She doesn’t answer; she leans her head against the window again, her eyes trained on the bleak landscape surrounding them.

“Don’t be sorry, Mulder. We’re in this together, remember?”

He nods. But she doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.

*

They eat at a shabby road side diner, just like in old times. Mulder grins at her remembering mornings and afternoons spent together discussing cases. He misses it. Scully smiles at him softly, nodding to herself as if she, too, wishes they were still these people.

A few miles later Scully tells him to stop.

“You need sleep, Mulder.” She doesn’t offer to drive and he knows she’s right. They check in as Mr. and Mrs. Hale paying in cash with crumpled up bills. The room is clean enough, he figures. Silently he strips down to his boxers as Scully shuts the blinds.

She watches him get comfortable in bed.

“You’re not joining me?”

“You should sleep, Mulder. I’ll be fine.”

“You know, I can behave myself. Come to bed, Scully. I’ll be a gentleman.” She takes off her jacket, her blouse and finally her skirt. Mulder keeps his eyes on her face, determined. His cock betrays him, throbbing gently, tightening his shorts.

“But who says I can behave myself?” She whispers and Mulder lets go, lets her take the reign for the moment. When he comes, her walls clamping down on him, guilt surges through him, reminding him that he doesn’t deserve this. When she kisses him after with a smile on her face, he tastes bitterness.

Her eyes begin to flutter and her breath evens out.

“I love you,” Mulder whispers into the room where the air conditioner gently hums, almost like a lullaby, “I love you so much, Scully.”

There is no answer and he is glad.

“Forgive me, Scully. Forgive me.” And he, too, sleeps.

*

When Mulder changes the direction north, Scully shoots him a look but stays quiet.

What did they used to talk about on these drives? Mulder doesn’t remember. In his memory, they’re always talking, quarreling. Cases, theories, ideas but nothing he could pinpoint. It was a time before his death, his resurrection. Before there were new partners assigned to find him, to have her back. A time when there was no baby boy; no regrets on either side why he isn’t with them now.

“We could stop in Las Vegas, make it official.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but Scully’s silence and her somber face tell him it was the wrong thing to say. He doesn’t apologize. Not for this.

As the scenery changes, the mood in the car remains the same.

“I really am sorry, Scully. For all of this.” When she doesn’t answer, he believes she’s asleep again. He doesn’t question her exhaustion, doesn’t ask why.

“Stop apologizing, Mulder. There’s nothing to be sorry for, nothing to forgive.”

“You heard me.”

“I did. It’s just- I sent you away, Mulder. To keep you safe and to… if there’s anyone who should be sorry it should be-“

“No, Scully. Don’t. Just… don’t.”

Silence takes over after this and Mulder feels it deep inside himself; the guilt manifesting itself inside, striking roots. You don’t know, Scully. You don’t know.

She’ll find out soon and then… and then.

*

They arrive with the sunrise. Orange flames lick at the sky as Mulder steers the car onto the graveled path.

“Where are we?” Scully’s voice is still thick with sleep. She runs her hands through her hair automatically.

“Mulder, where are we?” He stops the car, the house still small there in the distance. Mulder turns to Scully, who stares intently at him. There have been moments like this before in their long partnership; Mulder running off, leaving her with merely a sliver of the truth. Once she did it to him, too. This, he knows, is a different betrayal. One she might not forgive him.

“We’re in Wyoming.” There’s no reaction on her face. She has no idea.

“Scully, I couldn’t, I-...” Mulder trails off; he can’t do this. He starts the car again, Scully’s blue eyes burning into him, never once looking anywhere but his face. It takes maybe another 20 seconds, 30 tops, before the house comes into focus. Scully’s eyes leave him someone walked out the door. Mulder slows down the car and it finally stops in clear sight.

“Mulder…” He doesn’t recognize the emotion in Scully’s voice. He listens to the click of her seat belt, the soft close of the car door as she steps out. The woman on the porch holds her baby tightly, fastening her grip involuntarily.

Mulder takes a deep breath. He couldn’t have told her. He doesn’t have the words for it. Opening the car door, soft air hits him, reminds him of a place somewhere, of something he can’t put his fingers on. The baby kicks gently, like happy children do when they’re excited, and Mulder looks at his son for the first time in over a year.

“Mulder, why…” Scully’s voice breaks.

“Forgive me, Scully.” He pleads.

He needs her to forgive him because he can’t let go, can’t forgive himself and partly her, for giving up. For giving up their son.

“We’re taking our son home.” He says, determination in his voice. 


	2. Don't Resent Me

The woman, William's new mother, clings to the boy she considers her son. When her arms tighten around him instinctively, Will starts to squirm. Mulder wants to see it as a sign that Will recognizes him, which is silly, or Scully, which seems likely; but in the end, he doesn't know. Mulder has to stop himself from sprinting over there and grabbing his son out of the woman's clutch. This is his son, he thinks, but this woman, this Mrs. Van de Kamp, she loves the child, too. And, as much as even the thought burns him, Will must love her as well. Mulder glances at Scully, quickly, before he turns away again. Her face is pale, ashen almost, and fixated on their son. Both her hands are on the car door; she's ready to run away, to flee. Leave their son here and never talk about it ever again. They're good at that, after all. He's brought her here without any warning; he couldn't have told her, he reasons, because she would never have come had she known. When her knuckles turn white from grabbing the door, Mulder winces and averts his eyes. Forgive me, he thinks again; his forever mantra now. Maybe one day she will. Maybe one day his son will as well.

The thing is that Mulder doesn't know if he can do this without her. He knows he doesn't want to. What he's not sure about, though, is whether or not he'd do it anyway.

"What do you want from me? This is my son. Mine." Will squeaks loudly, still kicking his tiny legs. Scully makes a sound Mulder has never heard before. It carries a hurt that cuts right through him. He knows that if he turns to her now they'll leave here, without their son, with more wounds than either of them could ever heal. So he keeps his eyes on the other woman; the other mother.

"Not according to the law, Mrs. Van de Kamp." She gasps when Mulder speaks her name. What she doesn't know is that Mulder knows everything about her and her husband. Too many years in the shadows, a plaything for a global conspiracy and here he is, using the same methods to right a wrong.

"How do you know my name? Leave us alone. Please. This is my son."

"He's my son, Mrs. Van de Kamp. I never signed my consent and I know your last court date is next week."

"No." She cries, tears falling into the boy's hair; when Will was born, his soft tuft of hair was reddish and the softest thing Mulder had ever touched. He wonders what it feels like now that it's longer, a bit darker. There's a bit more of himself in the boy, but if he's honest he only sees Scully in the cherubic face. Startled by the wet drops on his head, Will stares up at the woman he has come to know as his mother, his eyes big and blue. Scully's eyes, of course. Mulder reminds himself that he's doing the right thing. Their son, their miracle, should be with them.

"Mulder…," Scully's voice scratches at his resolve; he's not going to look at her. Not until he's holding their son. Not until he can give her something back; they've lost so much and they're not losing this. "Let's… we should… go. Let's go." Scully's voice is no more than a whisper that the soft Wyoming air carries away.

"Don't take him. Please, Mr…. don't do this. He's our little miracle," Scully's wrenched sob gives her pause, "We love him. He's ours. He's my baby boy. What gives you the right?" She spits at him. Nothing gives him the right. Guilt, he thinks. Justice, he wonders.

Love.

"I understand, Mrs. Van de Kamp… I know you love him, but… he's ours."

"No, he's not. She gave him up! She gave him up!" Scully jiggles the car door; it won't open. Mulder feels the weight of the keys in his pocket. He doesn't even remember locking it up.  

"She didn't have a choice. Now we do. We can take care of him." Mulder hears the rattle of the car door and Scully's desperate fight. It reminds him that this is a lie. He has no idea if they can take care of him. All they have is this car and a suitcase full of guilt, resentment and fear.

"You should have thought about that before you gave him away." Will's whimpering intensifies and his small arms reach out. Not to him, no. He's reaching for Scully, who is not looking at her son, but still trying to get into the car.

"Look, Mrs. Van de Kamp, William wants-"

"Michael. His name is Michael. You got the wrong house, Mr. This is my baby. This is Michael. Right, Mikey? My baby?" But the boy doesn't react to the name.

"What is going on here?" The screen door gently flaps open to reveal what Mulder presumes is Mr. Van de Kamp. He's never seen a picture. The man puts his hands on his wife's shoulders and Will looks up at him briefly.

"He wants our son."

"My son." Mulder reminds her.

"Excuse me, Mr… but this is our son. We're in the middle of finalizing the adoption process."

"That's why I'm here. I'm the boy's father and I never gave my consent. My… his mother… it wasn't supposed to happen like this." In all of this, his great plan to get William back, Mulder hardly ever thought about these two people. William's new parents. His thoughts revolved around Scully, himself and the boy. He should be happy that their son was played in such a protected, loving environment. But he isn't. When Skinner, not Scully, told him about William's fate, part of him had been relieved. He's safe. No matter what happened now, to him and to Scully, their son would be safe. But it didn't last. Guilt burnt him every time he looked into Scully's eyes, piercing blue and full of pain. He was taking her away from what is left of her family, from the life she knows. He was always just taking and destroying. This time he needs to do something right. Even if Scully resents him for it.

“They told us there was no father. No one else.”

“I’m on his birth certificate.” Scully’s shy smile, his own lips quivering with emotion, as she handed him the document is carved into his memory.

“No, you’re not.” Mrs. Van den Kamp hisses. Mulder almost asks Scully if she took his name off, but she is not there, not really. She’s standing there clinging to the car door, her eyes empty, her mouth open; frozen in place.

“Actually…” Mr. Van de Kamp clears his throat. His eyes land on Mulder and narrow. “I didn’t want to… I didn’t want you to worry. You were so scared we were going to lose him again and so I… didn’t want to tell you. They told me that a father was listed.”

“No.” Her voice breaks as tears stream down her face. It’s not a conscious choice when Mulder takes a step forward. Mrs. Van de Kamp screams, startling William.

“Please hand him over.” Mulder feels the need to hold his son everywhere in his body. His arms tingle in anticipation, in memory.

“He is our son! We will fight this!” Her voice is screeching and scaring Will. In her desperation she barely notices that her husband entangles her hands from the baby. In a quick movement, Mr. Van de Kamp takes the few squeaking stairs with Will on his hip.

“Take him,” he spits loudly, “It never felt right.” He finishes quietly, softly so that his wife can't hear him. On the porch Mrs. Van de Kamp is on her knees, screaming and crying. Mulder takes his son, revels in the boy’s weight, and immediately takes a step back. He’s never going to let go of him again. He can’t help but watch Mr. Van de Kamp walk towards his wife, his life in shambles, and all he can think is forgive me, please.

Will, as if knowing who Mulder is, doesn’t even fuss. His small hand grabs at his shirt and holds it tightly for a moment until he sees Scully. His arms stretch out as far as they go. He makes baby noises, sounding happy and exciting. But Scully doesn’t react.

“Scully? Hey, Scully. I need you to take the baby so I can drive.” He wants to get away as soon as possible.

“Scully, come on. Look at Will. He just wants his… he wants you.” Her eyes, so cold, meet his for the shortest moment before she opens her arms. He puts Will there and he expects tears, a whirlwind of emotions; anything. Scully barely looks at their son, holds him at arm’s length, as if he were a doll, just a figment of Mulder's vast imagination.

Mulder unlocks the car and opens the door so that Scully and Will can get it. He sprints to his side, stealing a last look at the remnants of the family he just broke up. Forgive me, he whispers, before he gets into the car and drives off.

Staring the car, Mulder listens to Will babbling happily in Scully’s arms. He seems to tell her everything he’s experienced these last few months without her. Scully’s arms tighten around the boy when Mulder maneuvers the car over the gravel path, hitting a few tough spots. They’ll need a car seat. They’ll need so many things. Mulder glances at his son. He knows nothing about him. What food he likes, if he’s allergic to anything. They have no clothes for the boy or toys.

“I guess we’ll need supplies. Huh?” Scully stays quiet.

“Scully, I know you’re-“

“No, Mulder, you don’t know. You don’t know anything.”

*

They stop at a Walmart where Scully hauls several things into the cart and Mulder feels like everyone is watching them. He holds William, who despite not knowing him, seems to like him enough to stay quiet. At least that way they don’t look like kidnappers. And as much as Mulder wanted this and justified this, he’s beginning to understand that this is exactly what they are. What he is, anyway. He’s afraid that if he turns around, Scully will run. Leave him alone or worse: turn him in. One year, he thinks, and his trust in her is nothing but a chip on a cherished cup.

“We need clothes for him. And diapers.” Mulder stares at the different sizes displayed before him. Then at his son, who grins back. A Scully grin that distracts Mulder from his task and the gloom surrounding them.

Scully, without a word, without having to check, grabs a few packages and puts them in the cart. He follows the clickety-clack of her heels into the clothing section.

“Should we have him model for us?” No comment and no reaction as Scully rummages around the small collection and picks several tiny outfits.

“Is that all we need?” He dimly remembers a similar cart a lifetime ago. He can still hear Scully’s giggle when he presented her with a very tiny Knicks shirt that one, and only, time they found themselves shopping together for their baby. His face still shadowed by his ordeal, his mind momentarily quieted by the beauty bestowed on him against all odds.

“For now.” Her cold voice jolts him back to this new reality. She takes William from him, conscious not to touch Mulder in the process, and lets him steer the cart. You’re paying for all of this, she is telling him without any words. Mulder knew he would be.

They check in as a family for the first time. The receptionist smiles at Will, who buries his head into Scully's neck, shyly. Mulder hopes she doesn't see Scully startle.

"If you need anything for the baby just give me a call." The receptionist lets them know and Mulder nods absent-mindedly. His hand reaches out to settle on Scully's back, his spot, but she moves away from him, leading the way instead. He just follows.

It's a strange scene of twisted domesticity when Scully feeds William while Mulder tries to get up the cheap travel crib. The one they bought for him back home, back when everything still seemed right, came assembled. I'd rather pay the extra fee, Scully had told him with a coy smile, than have to worry about your hurting yourself. He'd kissed her then, his hand on her protruding stomach. Now he huffs, trying to rip the snapshot up in his mind. That, however, is not how his mind works.

To distract himself, Mulder steps away to look at what he's accomplished. The crib is up and it looks sturdy enough for a child. All Mulder can do is hope. He turns to ask Scully to check it out, but when he sees her, he stops. There she is, her back to him, holding Will. She's gently humming and Mulder is not sure she even realizes it. His son's face is against her shoulder, fighting to keep his eyes open. They land on Mulder for a short moment, unseeing yet trusting, before exhaustion defeats the small boy and takes him away into a land that Mulder prays is full of happy dreams.

"The crib is ready." Mulder whispers when he and Scully are finally face to face. Her eyes are wet with tears spurred on by happiness, or anger. Right now he can't tell. He offers to take Will from her, but she ignores him, and puts him down herself. The crib holds, much to Mulder's relief. The baby, however, starts whimpering and Mulder stares at Scully, looking for a clue. She doesn't give him one. Her arms are tightly swung around herself, hugging herself, as if she's cold.

"Scully, should we?" Mulder has never been a father. He's never taken care of a baby before, not like this, and if he ever thought he could do this without Scully by his side, he must have been in denial. Scully turns away from him, starts undressing; it's as if she's not hearing the child, not seeing him. Will cries out loudly and Mulder doesn't know if it's wrong or right; if there's ever a right or wrong in anything. He picks up his son, cradles him close and the boy relaxes immediately. Will sighs against his shoulder, sleep already tugging at his small body again.

There's no right, no wrong and so Mulder takes the baby and puts him down on the bed right between himself and Scully. This time Will doesn't fuss. His eyes are closed tightly while his lips suck at the air, search, before they finally settle down. Mulder watches in amazement; he's only done this once before and now he knows he'll do it for as long as he walks this, or any other, earth. His hand reaches out by instinct, just like Will's mouth searched for something to latch onto, to touch Scully. If he can't share this with her, then it's only worth half of it. If even that.

"I swear to god if you touch me…" Her ice cold voice makes him stop; his hand hovers above her hip and he can still feel the heat emanating from her. Slowly, he withdraws and puts his on Will's leg instead.

"Scully, I don't know what to say. I knew that if I told you what I wanted to do… you would have tried to stop me." Her eyes wander from him to William in turns. They never stay long, always in motion; trying to run away.

"I can spend the rest of my life telling you that I'm sorry. I am, Scully. Not for taking William back, never that. You know he belongs with us. We can keep him safe. I know we can."

"You resented me for giving him up. You'll always resent me for that." The ice in her voice thawed, nothing but tears are left. His hand itches with the need to touch her, but he knows better.

"No, Scully. I resented myself for leaving you and William. I would have resented myself for the rest of my life – our life."

"I made you leave to keep you safe, to keep… all of us safe."

"Say his name, Scully."

"What?"

"Say his name. You can barely look at him. It's William. He's with us and I'm gonna make damn sure it stays this way forever."

"Mulder…"

"Come on, Scully."

"You have no right to do this, Mulder. I gave him up to keep him safe. This life – this is no life for a child. You took him away from his family, they-"

"We're his family, Scully. He was with them what? Two months? Three? We're his family."

"You've been with him three days, Mulder. You had no right! How did you even know where to find him? No one was supposed to find him!"

"Shhhh." Mulder points at the baby sleeping between them.

"Fuck you, Mulder. This isn't fair. None of it." Sculls bolts from the bed and for a moment he is convinced she's running out into the cold even clad in a tank top and an old pair of boxer shorts that must have been his once. Making sure that William is safe on the bed, Mulder joins her. Standing behind her, her face towards the small, dirty window, he makes sure not to touch her. Mulder knows he's close enough so that she can feel him. He hopes it's enough; he hopes it's not too much.

"I know it isn't fair, Scully. I know. But don't you think we deserve this? Well, maybe I don't. I may not deserve this, Scully, but you do. You do deserve to see your son grow up. You deserve to be his mother. And maybe it's selfish, hell, I know it is, but I want this for us. Whenever I couldn't sleep, I imagined you and Will at home. I knew that… no matter how lonely I was, you had a part of me with you always. That's what kept me going. That's what always kept me going."

"We can't raise him on the run, Mulder. I didn't want this for him. What could we possibly give him? What if we can't keep him safe?" At least she's talking to him, he thinks. She may not be able to look at him yet, may not be able to forgive him ever, but she's talking.

"What can we give him? Love, Scully. As someone who's been loved by you, how can I deny my son this? He might not have been safe there either, Scully, and what would that have done to you? Hm? I only asked a favor and that was all it took to find him." A sigh escapes her lips and then she's there; her back presses into his chest as a peace offering. His arms carefully come around and rest on her flat stomach. They've done this before, he remembers, when Scully was pregnant. The baby that kicked against his hands back then, when he promised that he'd do everything to keep both of them safe, is now sleeping peacefully in their bed. A true miracle.

"What if they… his… William's, uhm, other parents, the Van de Kamp's? What if they come and look for us, too? Try to get him back?" Her finally uttering their son's name, after all this time, sounds like music in his ears that runs right through his soul and into his heart.

"They have no case, Scully, and I know – I feel – like… they know this is right. Trust me on this?" Mulder listens to her even breathing, tries to decipher her stillness in the absence of words.

"You once said that you didn't believe me when I first told you about Samantha," he begins, "and you followed me anyway, Scully, because you trusted me. Just like I always trusted you. Can you do it now, please? Trust us, Scully. You said you were fighting for us. William is part of that us and he belongs here with you and me, Scully. How could we ever have lived with each other, with the guilt of not knowing, of not taking care of him ourselves? So Scully… all I'm asking is… can you trust me?" Finally, she turns in his arms, her face tilted up.

"I do trust you, I want to, but-" Mulder puts his finger on her lips and she quiets immediately; this is enough. This one concession is enough. For now. It's not I forgive you. It's not a this is going to work. It's never been that with the two of them. Mulder is aware of her lips under his finger, feels her gently kissing his skin, and now he knows it's right.

This is their new beginning.


End file.
